


Cards on the Table

by charlottepriestly



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Humor, No angst this time I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:00:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24077110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlottepriestly/pseuds/charlottepriestly
Summary: Andy finds some answers she hadn't expected to find.
Relationships: Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs
Comments: 50
Kudos: 359





	Cards on the Table

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write this ever since I had a tarot card reading done. The answers I got from it are the ones described in this fic, so you can all imagine how _shook_ I was. So much so I wrote this one shot.
> 
> I'm throwing canon in the trash because Andy never left in Paris - she completed her two year tenure like the professional, loyal person she is
> 
> Side note: This fic in no way aims to degrade or make fun of spiritualism and magic. I'm quite a spiritual person myself :)
> 
> I wrote this in a bit of a rush and without a beta, but I hope it makes up for the angst in my previous fic ;)  
> Enjoy xx

Andy doesn’t really believe in this sort of thing. She’s only here because Doug begged her to accompany him to see his future. “For moral support”, in case he learned something he didn’t like. So while he’s in the tent on the left looking into a magical crystal ball or getting his palm read or drinking disgusting tea, Andrea is waiting outside in the August heat. Perfect way to spend a Saturday afternoon, really.

She should have just stayed at home with the AC blasting and stuffing herself with cookie dough ice cream.

“You are waiting for something,” a deep, accented voice says out of nowhere.

Andy’s head jerks up to find a woman at the entrance of the tent to her right, wearing a long, flowing skirt and a camisole that shows off her toned stomach. Dark eyes are fixed on Andy as if they can see right through her.

“Oh, um, yeah, I’m just waiting for my friend,” she gestures to the other tent vaguely and tries not to fidget under the intense gaze.

“That is not what I meant,” the woman drawls. “Come, you can wait inside. I’ll give you answers.”

“Oh, that’s- that’s very nice, but I don’t--”

“No, no, I insist.” 

An impatient gesture reminds Andy of a certain Editor she’d worked for more than two years ago. The arguments die in her throat and she follows the woman into the tent with a resigned sigh. 

Incense fills the air in a heady aroma of lavender. Flickering candles are placed strategically on almost every surface. The woman lowers herself onto a chair by the table in the centre of the room while Andy looks around the ornaments, decorations, and unfamiliar objects that surrounded her.

“Sit,” she waves at the chair across from her, and Andy obeys. “My name is Marie, and I’m here to give you the answers you seek.”

“Oh,” Andy says dumbly. “Okay, well, my name is--”

“Andy, I know,” Marie waves her off. “Although you prefer to be called something else by a certain someone, no?”

“Uh,” Andy gapes at her, unsure of what the cryptic words mean. And how on earth did she know her name? Maybe she’d heard Doug say it before he went into the other tent. They weren’t particularly sound-proof, after all. “I don’t know, I guess--”

“Not to worry, dear. I know the question you seek answers to. You have been asking yourself for quite some time, yes?”

“Um, what question would that be, exactly?” Andy asks, deciding to humour this stranger. She has nothing better to do, after all. Might as well kill time while Doug learns the answers to the universe or whatever.

“You want to know who your soulmate is.”

The silence that fills the tent is loaded with Andy’s disbelief. She can’t hold back a scoff no matter how hard she tries to.

“Listen, this is all really-- yeah. Thing is, I don’t believe in soulmates.”

“Maybe you don’t use the word, but you have been asking yourself why nobody seems to be right for you, haven’t you? Every person you date has been disappointing, even though all your friends are happily paired off. You’ve started to question if there is anyone out there who is really right for you.”

Andy can only stare in speechless incredulity. Sure, it’s all mostly true, and it does kind of creep her out that this woman knows all that, but it’s probably just a fluke, right? How many people come here with love troubles and lost hope? A lot, probably. But just because Andy’s here doesn’t mean any of that relates to her. Well, at least not all of it. She definitely wouldn’t turn to witchcraft or voodoo or whatever this is to try and sort her life out.

“I can show you, if you want,” Marie says, and places her hands atop a deck of cards sitting between them with strange, mystical designs on them. “I can tell you the kind of person who is suited for you.”

Okay, so maybe Andy’s a little intrigued. What does she have to lose, really?

“Alright,” she concedes.

Marie grins, and her dark, elegant hands start placing four cards in front of her.

“Hmm,” Marie murmurs, tilting her head in intrigue as she studies the cards. “All swords. Interesting, and very rare. Your person might be an air sign, but I sense a lot of water elements in their personality. A bit of an over-thinker, too much in their head sometimes.”

Andy nods, pretending she understands.

“Six of swords here,” Marie points to one of the cards, depicting a woman walking atop a hill with six silver swords encrusted on it. “This person is an old soul. They have been through a lot, seen life from many perspectives. But they know how to pick themselves up, how to make quick decisions and make good judgement on many things.”

Andy hums, leaning forward slightly.

“Seven of swords reversed,” Marie moves onto the card with seven blades floating upside down in some form of current of colours. “This one is special. Whoever this person is, they are emotionally shut down. They have a hard time expressing emotions, but they can learn to open up with the right person.” Dark eyes glint at Andy knowingly. “They are also a very deep thinker. I sense a lot of intelligence in this person. Analytical."

For some unknown reason, Andy starts to feel a sinking sensation in her stomach. She shifts in her seat, trying to move away from the discomfort.

“Now, the four of swords.” A woman dressed in white stands under a full moon, four swords hovering above her. “An introvert, then. Your soulmate likes to have their space, they want to be alone sometimes. You must respect this about them. It is their time to recharge, to heal, you understand?”

Andy nods, even though swallowing has become more difficult somehow. She tries to gather her thoughts, but there’s a small, aggravating voice inside her mind that will not let up.

The next card shows a woman, also dressed in white, laying at the bottom of a mountain. The swords are stuck to the ground, sticking up in the shape of a circle around her.

“Eight of swords. Not surprising, really. This person has high, protective walls around them. They guard themselves fiercely, so they don’t trust easily. It will be difficult to know them well in the beginning. You will only see a few pages of their book until they reach a certain point of comfort with you. They will reveal all the chapters eventually, and something tells me that the wait will be worth it. Patience is a virtue, no?” Marie smirks at her, but Andy is too caught up in her words to return the gesture.

“Oh,” Andy manages to say. She feels slightly light-headed for some reason. “Well, um, thanks a lot-”

“We are not finished,” Marie interrupts, holding up a hand and halting Andy in her attempt to stand up. “There are more cards to be revealed.”

Andy shuts her eyes, and with a deep exhalation, braces herself for whatever comes next. Marie smiles in gratification before reaching towards the stack of cards and adding four more cards on the table. The sorceress taps the one on the far left - a baby bathed in light under a bright, flaming sun.

“This is the card of new beginnings,” Marie explains. “Whoever this person is, they are lucky. You’re going to be the light of their life, and they will be yours. Your love will be so powerful that it will make this person shine unlike anything else they have experienced before.”

Andy is tempted to raise a derisive eyebrow at the whimsical romanticism of it, but part of her feels moved by the notion too. Being someone’s ‘light of their life’ sounds pretty remarkable. Before Andy can dwell on it further, Marie taps a card with two figures, one standing beside a stack of old books, the other sitting with her head tilted up towards the other one.

“The teacher card means there will be a lot of learning and growth to be had from both parties. You will learn from them, and they will learn from you too. You will improve together, which will be easier because of this,” Marie touches the third card of a woman falling from the sky, arms outstretched in free-fall. “Trust. This person will trust you in a way they have never done with anyone before. They will feel at home with you, and learn to open up completely for once in their life.

“And finally,” Marie says, caressing the last card fondly, a circle of swirling colours and symbols. “The _anima mundi._ This card is very powerful. It means your person is very connected to all things. They have a duality in them: they know how the world works, they have a deep understanding of people, but they also close themselves off from everything. Don’t hold this against them. They have seen too much ugliness, too much pain. Sometimes it is safer to hide away from the world, to keep yourself at a certain distance from people. I do not think this person will shut you out, however. I think they are waiting for you.”

Any breath Andy had left in her lungs abandons her in a shaky exhalation. Her heart starts pounding. She staggers to her feet, suddenly desperate to get out of this tent, to get some fresh air in her lungs that doesn’t smell of lavender.

“Before you go,” Marie says. “One last thing.”

Andy turns to her, trying to swallow past the tightening in her throat.

“This person has an affinity for animals. I have the feeling that they love dogs in particular.”

That is her undoing. She stumbles out of the tent, clasping the hair at her scalp as her mind finally understands all that had been bothering her for so long.

The way Andy always worked herself raw just to please the one person who never showed any gratefulness; the strange warmth that always settled in her abdomen at seeing alabaster skin perfectly exposed or hugged by a particularly flattering outfit; the way she only liked her full name pronounced _just so_ ; the profound loss she’d felt after finishing her two years’ tenure. It all makes sense now. All her repressed feelings come rushing over her as if a dam has been broken, and the shocking realisation nearly knocks her over with its sheer force.

“Holy shit.”

.oOo.

So there’s a possibility Andy believes in the magic of tarot cards now. Maybe? She isn’t really sure where she is on the scale of spiritualist belief, but one thing she is absolutely certain about. 

She has deep, powerful feelings for Miranda. As in Miranda Priestly. As in Miranda Priestly, her ex-boss, a straight woman so out of her league that Andy might as well wish for a pet unicorn. Could she not have set her sights a little lower? On a mortal, perhaps? Or at least someone who would be even slightly interested in her?

Except the more she thought about Miranda, the more Andy felt like she was losing her mind. Because the thing is, she’s increasingly convinced that Miranda felt something for her too, back when Andy was her assistant. She’s not sure what, exactly. Maybe it’s simple admiration for how much Andrea’s fashion sense improved at _Runway,_ perhaps it’s just plain physical attraction, or maybe it’s something more (Andy doesn’t let herself delve into that train of thought, because hoping might lead to heartbreak and disappointment).

The only thing she knows is that _not_ knowing is not an option. She knows it’s risky. And stupid and fruitless and suicidal. But spending the rest of her life wondering - about the meaning behind Miranda’s overly long once-overs, how she used to look at Andy as if she was a juicy piece of steak, how she actually _talked_ to her and _confided_ in her as if she’d been more than an assistant - it’s not something Andy’s able to live with unless she has a clear answer. She needs to at least _try,_ even if it gets her killed.

Which is why she’s standing at Miranda’s doorstep on a Saturday evening, exactly one week after her life had been turned upside down. Sure, she didn’t really think things through, exactly, but giving herself too much time to think would only result in her talking herself out of it. She’s always prided herself in not being a coward, in always going after what she wants. And Miranda is what she wants, so she’ll just have to leap off the tallest cliff there is and hope that Miranda will catch her.

The door opens before Andy’s ready. The moment she sees her, she loses her breath.

Miranda looks magnificent. She’s more beautiful than Andy remembers her. The light blue dress she’s wearing flows like silk down to her knees, but somehow hugs her figure perfectly. It makes the blue of her eyes look like the ocean. Her hair looks soft, not styled back as severely as she usually wore it at Runway. Her skin is still smooth and flawless like it was two years ago, her sharp features as elegant as they’ve always been, except her face looks softer with just the barest hints of makeup. She looks like spring, colourful and vibrant. She looks like the clear sky on a warm summer day, comforting and familiar and wonderful.

“Miranda,” she breathes. She’s so happy to see her again that she doesn’t even pay attention to the shocked expression on the older woman's face.

“Andrea,” Miranda manages to say despite her clear surprise. Andy barely keeps from melting at the sound of her name rolling off Miranda’s tongue in that way of hers. _God,_ she’s missed hearing this woman say her name. “What are you doing here?”

“Um,” Right. Andy needs to pull herself together, because suddenly the lack of preparation seems more idiotic than before. Standing before Miranda - _Miranda!_ \- she feels daunted by the very idea of what she came here to do. “Well, I was in the neighbourhood, and--”

A skeptical eyebrow rises, and the gesture is so very Miranda that Andy can’t help but chuckle.

“Okay, so, uh, that’s not really true. I came to see you. I- I know I should have probably called or something, but I didn’t think I’d get through to you since you’re a busy woman, and this is kind of important, so I just decided to give it a shot--”

“Andrea,” Miranda says impatiently, cutting off her babbling, but Andy can see the hint of amusement in blue eyes. Somehow, this gives her the courage she needs to do it.

“Will you have dinner with me?” she blurts.

Miranda blinks at her in bewilderment, and doesn’t say anything for a long moment. She simply looks at Andy as if she’s sprouted another head, or just announced that she’s Anna Wintour in disguise. Andy’s heart rate picks up at the lack of response, and she starts to wonder what possessed her to think this was a good idea.

Would they ever find her body? How will Miranda murder her? Should she have written a will?

The racing of her heart skids to a stop when Miranda’s lips twitch, curling at the corners. Andy holds her breath. Her knees nearly buckle while she watches, mesmerised, as a beautiful, radiant smile lights up Miranda’s entire face. She has never looked more beautiful. Miranda is smiling at her, and Andy’s chest feels like it might burst with elation.

“Alright,” she says, voice smooth and assured. Her eyes are still shining with amusement, crinkled at the corners in the most gorgeous way. Andy has the sudden urge to weep. “Tonight? The girls are with their father, and I’m free for the rest of the evening.”

“Uhm,” Andy stammers. She most definitely hadn’t thought about the particulars of the date. She never really thought she’d get this far. She’s not really sure how she’ll cope without some time to mentally prepare herself for a date with Miranda Priestly, but it’s not like she could say no, really. She’s dying to keep looking at this woman, such a sight for sore eyes. “Sure- I mean, yeah, okay. Whatever you want, Miranda.”

Miranda’s smile turns into a smirk that makes Andy’s insides swirl in funny, pleasant ways.

“Yes, I believe you’ve said that on a few occasions before.”

Andy is at high risk of fainting now.

“Um,” Andy she chokes, because Miranda being playful and - dare she think it - _flirty_ is making it hard to breathe. Leave Miranda to have Andy forgetting the basic process of taking in oxygen on a regular basis.

At her speechless, flustered reaction, Miranda chuckles. The sound shoots down Andy’s spine and curls deep in her abdomen.

“Come on,” Miranda says, a fond smile still playing at the corners of her lips. She opens the door wider and steps aside. “Cara made lasagne last night, and I have too many leftovers to finish by myself.”

Andy’s grin is almost painful against her cheeks, but she simply cannot stop smiling as she follows Miranda into her home. She is led into the kitchen, a place that Andy remembers from the countless times she delivered The Book. Sometimes Miranda would call her name in invitation, and Andy would find her on the kitchen island with a glass of wine, a cheese platter and a book, or sometimes helping her daughters do some last-minute homework. Those nights had always been the best.

Now Miranda gestures at her to sit on one of the tall stools, and offers her a glass of wine, which Andy eagerly accepts. This all feels so surreal that she needs something to ground her to reality. Might as well be booze.

When Miranda hands her a glass half full of the burgundy liquid, their fingertips brush. Andy has to bite her lip to distract herself from the feeling - a technique she’d used every time they’d accidentally touched when Andy gave her coffee or files or her coat and bag. The only difference now is that Miranda looks at her with a knowing glint in her eye, and Andy’s unable to hide her blush. The moment is broken when Miranda turns away, and Andy takes a large gulp of wine.

“How is _The Mirror_ treating you?” Miranda asks as she begins warming up the leftover lasagne.

“Good,” Andy says, grateful for the distraction. “It’s going great actually. I’m finally starting to get decent assignments, so I get to write about stuff I’m actually interested in.”

“Stuff?” Miranda glances over her shoulder, a teasing smirk on her lips.

“Oh, you know what I mean,” Andy says humorously, shrugging self-deprecatingly

Miranda sniffs in her classic, disdainful gesture, but Andy can see the twitching at the corner of her lips. She knows that sign well: Miranda is trying not to smile. This fills her with an elation that might just make her fly right off her chair.

“How are things at _Runway?_ ” She asks, trying to calm herself.

“The usual,” Miranda gives a one shoulder shrug, and Andy’s mind momentarily loses coherence when she sees the flash of an elegant collarbone. “I’m surrounded by incompetence, even more so now that Nigel has moved on, but Emily is proving herself an acceptable replacement for him. And of course Irv still has the foolish belief that he can take me down, but some members of the board have been replaced and now I have firm support from the new members.”

“Butter them up, did ya?”

“Undoubtedly. I have them wrapped around my little finger.”

Andy chuckles. She knows very well how charming Miranda can be when she wants to.

“How’s Nigel doing? I haven’t heard from him in ages,” she asks, and feels the familiar sensation of missing the only friend she’d managed to keep after she finished her tenure at _Runway._

“He’s doing well, I believe. We meet up every now and then, and last I heard he was in love with his job and a man named Stan. They’ve been together for some time now.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Andy exclaims. Nigel had often confided in her how difficult it was to juggle his job and dating, especially since being gay didn’t offer as many options as being into the opposite sex. “I’m so happy for him. I should call him soon for a catch up.”

“I’m sure he would love that,” Miranda gives her a warm smile, as if she knows how close Andy and Nigel used to be. “Perhaps you should call Emily as well.”

Andy blinks at her in surprise.

“Emily?”

“Mm,” Miranda hums in affirmation, and the sound makes Andy’s hair stand up at the back of her neck. “I think you’re the only other assistant she actually tolerated.”

“Jeez, thanks,” Andy scoffs.

“Well, you know what she’s like. By Emily standards, you guys were basically friends.”

“What an honour,” Andy drawls, and Miranda snorts in amusement. It almost makes Andy fall off her chair. “How many assistants have you had since I left, anyways?”

Miranda freezes for a moment, her back turned to Andy as she looks for something in the freezer. Andy can’t see her expression, but she notices the way her spine goes rigid and wonders how she has misstepped by asking that question. Slowly, Miranda shuts the fridge and turns around. She gazes at Andy with a guarded expression.

“I lost count,” she says, but something in her voice sounds on edge.

“That many, huh?” Andy smiles in jest to lighten the mood, but Miranda’s expression does not change.

“Well,” Miranda begins haltingly, as if measuring her next words carefully before speaking them. “I never really found anyone who was able to live up to you.”

Oh. Wow. That has to be the nicest thing Miranda has ever said to her. Andy is momentarily speechless, hardly able to wrap her mind around what Miranda has just revealed.

Then Miranda turns back to the fridge, and the conversation is put to an end. Andy wants to say a lot of things, to put her jumbled thoughts into words, but she knows Miranda would not appreciate it right now. So, instead she lets out a shaky sigh, and changes the subject.

“How are Cassidy and Caroline?”

The tension leaves Miranda’s shoulders, and Andy knows she’s made the right decision. As Miranda enthusiastically talks about her beloved daughters, Andy leans back to sip her wine and watch the magnificent woman in front of her, trying to keep her heart from turning to a pile of goo.

.oOo.

Cara’s lasagne is delicious, but it’s made even better by the fact that Andy gets to eat it sitting across from Miranda. The older woman went as far as lighting a tall candle stick and placing it in the centre of the table, and Andy found the gesture so sweet that she’d nearly swooned. The conversation is easy and comfortable, touching on several topics until they finish eating and make their way to the den. Andy’s surprised at how much she’s learned about Miranda’s tastes, and even more surprised at how much they have in common. Who would have thought Miranda Priestly was an avid movie fan?

 _“Rebel Without A Cause?”_ Andy asks, highly amused by the little game they’ve started.

“Atrocious,” Miranda says with a snarl as she lowers herself on the sofa, immediately curling her legs underneath her. “Never understood why people liked it so much.”

 _“Breakfast At Tiffany’s?”_ Andy asks. She settles on the other end of the couch, being extra careful not to spill any wine.

“Delightful. Love the fashion style, and Audrey Hepburn has always been one of my favourites.”

“Hm,” Andy bites her lips, trying to think of another to throw at the editor. “Oh! How about _Psycho?_ ”

“A little overrated, I think, but overall a great film.”

“Okay," Andy tries to think of another film she hasn’t already mentioned, but comes up empty. “How about you tell me a movie that you love but nobody would ever guess?”

Miranda smirks at her, and Andy leans forward.

 _“Jurassic Park._ The first one.”

Andy’s mouth drops open in shock. After a moment to process the image of Miranda curled up on her sofa watching _Jurassic Park_ of all things, Andy can’t help but throw her head back in laughter.

“Oh my God,” she wheezes. “That’s amazing. Can we please watch it together at some point? I’ll bring the popcorn.”

A deep, divine chuckle is her response, and Andy sighs like a love-sick princess in a fairy tale.

“We’ll see,” Miranda answers, but that beautiful smile still graces her lips, so Andy has high hopes. 

Suddenly Miranda’s expression turns thoughtful. She regards Andy for a long, silent moment, her head tilted in intrigue. Andy swallows a mouthful of wine to hide her sudden uneasiness.

“Why now?” Miranda finally asks.

Andy’s brow furrows in confusion. “What?”

“Why have you suddenly decided to approach me? It’s been two years. So, why now?”

“Oh,” Andy says, and for a moment isn’t sure if she should speak the truth. But then she remembers that Miranda is a walking bullshit detector, and she’s always been able to read Andy insufferably well. “Well, uhm, you won’t believe me if I told you. And even if you would, you’d definitely laugh at me.”

Andy didn’t think it would be possible, but Miranda’s gaze gets even more intense at Andy’s response.

“Humour me.”

Damn. She could never say no to Miranda, could she? She lets out a deep breath before taking a fortifying gulp of wine. 

“Okay, fine,” she relents, and braces herself for whatever Miranda’s reaction will be. “I got a tarot card reading about who my soulmate is, and the description I got was all you.”

At first there’s no real reaction. Andy had expected Miranda to laugh at her, but the older woman just stares at her with a frown. After a moment, Andy can clearly see Miranda’s expression fill with hurt.

“So you only came here because some tarot cards told you I might be your _soulmate?_ ”

Shit. Shit shit shit.

“No!” Andy exclaims, and leans closer, placing a placating hand on Miranda’s. She hadn’t noticed Miranda’s dress riding up her thighs when she’d sat, so now Miranda’s silky soft skin burns under Andy’s palm. She wonders if Miranda is as soft everywhere else, until she manages to shake herself. Damage control. Right. 

“No, Miranda, I came here because the lady doing the reading was describing someone, and the only person I could think of was you. I’m here because I finally realised what it is I’ve been feeling ever since I walked into your office looking for a job almost four years ago.”

“Oh.”

There is a long silence between them. Miranda is looking at her as if she’s never seen her before, while Andy is doing her best not to have a nervous breakdown. She just confessed to having feelings for Miranda, and the other woman is not giving her a clear reaction. She’s not laughing at Andy, or kicking her out of her house in horror, or launching herself at Andy for a toe-curling kiss. There’s just silent contemplation, and perhaps some warmth in the blue eyes that are dissecting Andy so thoroughly.

“So you believe in such things? Tarot cards and soulmates and such?” Miranda asked, as if Andy had not just put her feelings out in the open.

Andy finds it disconcerting, and isn’t sure how to take it. She goes to remove her hand from Miranda’s knee, but Miranda grasps it, keeping in place. Her hand is warm above Andy’s, her eyes shining with something pure and beautiful that Andy can’t quite decipher. It makes her anxiety settle down, and she decides to simply go along with whatever direction Miranda wants to take their conversation in.

“No,” she answers truthfully, and Miranda’s lip curls infinitesimally. “I don’t believe in that sort of thing. I was there with my friend Doug to offer moral support while he ‘found out about his future’.”

The mocking tone she uses clearly amuses Miranda, because the smile she was hiding blooms into something so stunning that Andy forgets what they’re talking about for a second.

“Neither do I,” Miranda says, her tone inviting and affectionate. “It’s quite convenient that tarot cards brought you here, actually. That way we can start a relationship, and prove that all that voodoo, whimsical spiritualism is utter nonsense when you come to your senses and leave for someone better.”

The words would easily get a rise out of Andy if it weren’t for the joking tone they’re laden with. Miranda’s eyes are filled with teasing amusement, and Andy grins at her playfulness. She draws closer, and rubs her thumb down the inside of her knee.

“Ooh, yes, that’s a great plan!” she says enthusiastically. “We can be together, like, for science!”

“Hm,” Miranda hums, her face alight with joy. She pulls Andy closer. “Drive each other crazy…”

“Prove that soulmates don’t exist…”

“Fall in love…” Miranda murmurs in a quiet voice, halting Andy’s breath in her chest. She looks vulnerable in that moment, painfully beautiful.

“Fall in love,” Andy confirms as happiness suffuses her, sprouting from her chest and spreading to every molecule in her body.

Miranda’s wide smile is so full, so magnificent, that Andy loses her breath again. She has never looked so beautiful, her entire face shining with delight. Andy can’t wait anymore. She closes the space between them, pressing a gentle kiss on Miranda’s smiling lips. Miranda gasps against her. Andy momentarily worries that it’s too soon, but then Miranda’s hand is tenderly tracing her cheek, her neck, pulling her closer to press their lips together more firmly. Andy melts into her, revelling in the incredible feeling of Miranda’s lips against hers, soft like the finest silk.

When she finally manages to take a breath, the scent of Miranda makes her feel lightheaded. She traces warm kisses down Miranda’s elegant neck as Miranda sighs with pleasure. 

Lavender has never smelled so sweet.


End file.
